“I forgot how good it felt to be touched there,” she whispered.
His only response was a satisfied groan against her skin. She closed her eyes as he tugged her other arm down, revealing the flat scar where her left breast should be. She couldn’t watch, but she couldn’t stop him, either. This. This was incredible. Then, her nipple felt warm and wet, followed by cool goose bumps.
She opened her eyes and saw his lips poised near her breast. Their eyes met as his tongue traced another warm circle over her nipple. He cupped her and pulled her into his mouth and she couldn’t stop the moan that escaped.
He suckled her and she couldn’t tear her eyes free from the sight of his lips on her.
His next move stunned her into complete stillness. He traced tiny kisses across her chest and pressed his lips to the center of her scar, their eyes locked together. Tears burned to the surface and she blinked rapidly.
“You’re perfect the way you are.” He traced his thumb over her scar and kissed her there again. “I wouldn’t care if you had none.” He pulled her mouth down to him, and she felt the purity of that kiss, the force of his emotion. “I love you.”
Tears leaked down her cheeks and he pulled her to him. She straddled him and felt his erection through his shorts. He loved her.
She rocked against him and felt him jerk beneath her. She helped him pull his shorts off, then her own quickly followed and her heat covered the length of him. She rubbed herself against him and the sensation nearly sent her over the edge.
“Jen.” He breathed her name against her lips and his arms tightened around her.
She rolled a condom down his thick length and then her body stretched as he slid inside of her, slowly, so slowly, as she took her fill of him. His lips locked on her breast and she cried out as pleasure flowed through her. She moved faster, his fingers digging into her hips to guide her.
She wanted this.
Wanted him.
Wanted …
“Shane!”
She exploded around him, her body shuddering to a release that went on and on and on with each stroke. He tightened at once and she felt him pulsing inside of her as his release pulled them both under.
For the first time, she felt completely and truly loved, just how she was. Her words, whispered in the darkness, patched the wounded hole between them.
“I love you.”
Chapter 23
“You are hereby notified that you are being found liable as the proximate cause of the loss of—”
Randall’s voice droned into the vacuum of space. Shane knew there were words coming out, but he heard nothing, saw only the LT’s moving lips. He was sitting in his hospital room, waiting to go into pre-op for the first surgery that would get one of his legs back in the game, and Randall was reading him the findings of his investigation. Ten minutes later and Shane would have missed him altogether.
Liable for the loss of equipment that went missing after Shane had already been flown out of the theater. Liable for equipment that by rights, Lieutenant Randall should have been responsible for as the company supply officer.
Judged guilty by a lieutenant who couldn’t even figure out how to spell LT. Didn’t that just about nail it?
Strange, but there were no emotions circling inside Shane. There was none of the rage he normally felt when he was around Lieutenant Randall. There was simply nothing.
He was picking up the pieces and he was starting a new life with Jen. Randall couldn’t take that away from him. Whatever amount he wanted to charge him for the missing weapons was nothing compared to what he’d lose if he lost Jen. Money could be replaced, but something fragile was growing between the two of them. Something fragile that he was going to nourish and cherish.
“I need you to circle here and initial here,” Randall said, handing Shane a folder.
“What?”
“Circle. Initial.”
Shane raised both eyebrows at the lieutenant’s condescending tone. “And if I don’t?”
“Nothing changes. You’re still going to have to pay Uncle Sam four thousand six hundred and eighty-two dollars and sixty-three cents.”
There it was. The loathing he felt for this officer bubbled up and overflowed. “Right and just how did you get me for the full amount? I’m only supposed to be charged one month’s base pay.”
“Negligence. By failing to inventory your equipment, you failed to perform basic requirements. So I found you negligent and can therefore recommend that the full amount be taken from your pay.” There was a certain smugness to Randall that Shane wanted badly to drive from his features.
Oh, but Trent had some serious explaining to do. If he ever got ahold of him.
“How long do I have to appeal?”
“You’ll need to talk to legal.”
“In the meantime, you’ve already notified Osterman and Carponti that they’re liable, too? You’ve stopped their pay without due process?”
“Osterman and Carponti? Of course. As the armorer, Osterman was responsible for these. And Carponti? He signed them out from the arms room.”
“You sorry bastard. You’ve found two seriously wounded men liable for equipment that was more than likely destroyed in attacks when they were hurt and you act like there’s nothing wrong with that.”
“The regulations are clear. You and your men were negligent.” Randall straightened a little. Just enough to let Shane know that he’d struck a nerve. The door opened and Shane prayed it was Jen or some other nurse to cart him off to surgery.
Shane looked up, then did a double take as Trent Davila strolled into the room. Trent’s black hair was ragged, like he hadn’t had a haircut in weeks. His skin was drawn and tight, his mouth set in a hard flat line, but when his eyes met Shane’s, it cracked into a wide grin.
“What the hell are you doing here?
“It’s a long story,” Trent mumbled, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. He snatched the file from Randall’s hand as two MPs, both females, came around the corner, filling the narrow entrance. Nicole Carponti completed the party, her movements stiff and sure as she stalked into the room, her heels clicking against the tiles. “Lieutenant, you are hereby relieved of your duties as the investigation officer for this case. Captain Montoya, please ensure he’s read his rights before Agent Carponti questions him.”
“With pleasure,” the female MP said.
Shane half expected Randall to argue or fight or flee. But instead, he held his chin high and walked stoically down the hall toward the elevators.
“I think you owe me some answers, damn it,” Shane growled when he could finally talk.
“And I’ve got some.” Trent looked exhausted. Like he’d been living on MREs and two hours of sleep a night for the last four months. There were deep purple slashes beneath his eyes and the lines around his mouth were worn deep into the grooves of his skin.
“What happened?” Shane couldn’t keep the worry from his voice and he didn’t really try. This was Trent. It would be like trying to conceal something from Carponti.
Trent nodded and sank onto one of the chairs. He shoved his glasses to the top of his head and leaned forward, planting his elbows on his knees. “First the good news. Randall is being court-martialed. Those night optics you were being investigated for? Turns out Randall had stolen them and falsified the monthly reports.”
“Holy shit.”
“But wait, there’s more.” Trent’s attempt to lighten the mood fell flat.
“What else could there be?”
“He was pinning it all on you guys because you hadn’t done that stupid inventory in Iraq. He almost got away with it.” Trent glanced over at him. “Carponti’s wife tipped us off that something was going on back here, and that we better start digging. That’s why I had to send Randall home. I needed access to his computer, and I couldn’t get it if he was hanging around.”
Shane was impressed. “You’re a sneaky bastard, that’s for sure. Remind me never to send any dirty
emails to your wife.”
Trent snorted and leaned back against the wall. “Yeah, well, that’s not a problem. Turns out Laura’s leaving me. On top of everything else, I’ve lost my family.”
“Holy shit,” Shane mumbled and wished he had something more profound to say than, “I’m sorry, man.”
“They didn’t want me tipping Randall off so I couldn’t call her. They seemed to think that as his commander, I might have been part of the whole weapons selling thing.” He sighed and rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses. “I’m being court-martialed.”
“Because of that shithead lieutenant?”
“No. That’s got nothing to do with it. I’m being charged with some heavy-duty shit.”
“Like what?” Shock burned through him at the grenade Trent had lobbed into the middle of their conversation.
“Can’t go into the details right now. You’ll be called as a witness. Eventually. These things tend to take awhile.”
“How did you get to come home, then?” The thought of Trent back in Iraq, pending court-martial was damn near crushing him. But still, he couldn’t explain why Trent was home. “What the hell did you do?”
“If I did what they accused me of, I’d want to kill me, too. So they sent me home. For my own protection.”
“Trent, what did you do?”
Trent met his gaze then, and Shane had never seen such flat resignation or hopelessness in his longtime friend’s eyes. “I can’t talk about it. You’ll know soon enough. I’ve got to go. Laura owes me some explanations, starting with a brown envelope I got in the mail a few weeks ago.” Trent stood, then sat back down again. Like he was remembering something. “Nicole mentioned you’ve got some good news?”
After everything Trent had just dropped in Shane’s lap, sharing anything good felt like a betrayal of their friendship. “Yeah. Jen and I …”
Trent smiled. It was a pale shadow of his former grin, but it was there and it was genuine. “That’s good, man. That’s real good.”
“Yeah.” Shane swallowed and turned the subject back to Trent. “What can I do to help?”
Trent shrugged. “Nothing, really. Just. Don’t lie for me when you get interviewed and questioned. Tell them the truth, whatever they ask you about.”
“I won’t make that promise.”
“Then we’ll be cellmates up at Leavenworth,” Trent snapped. “Don’t fucking lie for me. Tell them the truth.”
Trent strode off, leaving Shane confused, pissed, and hurt. What the hell was going on? The silence didn’t last long. Jen walked in and he’d never been so glad to see her as he was at that exact moment. He didn’t give her the chance to sit—he snagged her hand and tugged her up against him.
She looked into his eyes even as she shifted to get closer. “Are you ready for this?”
Shane glanced down at his legs. “I have no idea.”
Jen threaded her fingers into his. “The surgery will be fast. When you come out, you’ll be one step closer to being back on your feet.”
“Trent’s home.” Shane swallowed and looked away. “He’s being court-martialed.”
“Trent was here?”
“Yeah. I’m surprised you didn’t see him. He just left. He’s going to find Laura.”
“Go back to the part about court-martial. What’s he being court-martialed for?”
“He won’t say.”
Jen tried to sit up. “I have to call Laura.”
Shane squeezed her tight. “Don’t. Let Trent be the one to tell her.”
“I’ll be here when you wake up, okay? You better wake up,” she said with a watery smile, cupping his hands between hers.
Shane pulled her forward suddenly and kissed her. “I will. I’ll see you in a few hours.”
She nodded and the last thing he saw as he was wheeled into the operating room was Jen, her hands tucked beneath her arms and a smile that belonged to him alone on her lips.
He carried that smile with him as the drugs pulled him under, and it was the first thing he saw when he woke up.
She’d stood by him. When he’d been an asshole. When he’d been broken. And because of Jen, he’d fit the pieces of his life back together.
They had put their two broken lives together and created something better. Something that was theirs alone.
Something that chased away their fears of being left, wounded and alone.
Something beautiful.
Epilogue
Jen ran a comb through her still wet hair as Shane approached her in the mirror. “I like your bedroom,” he murmured.
She shook her head as she tipped her neck sideways to give him greater access to the sensitive flesh behind her ear. She rested her hands against his on her stomach. A small diamond sparkled on her finger. “Should you be up without your cane?”
He rested his chin on her shoulder. “I’m just trying to get used to walking without it. Plus, I might be able to beat Carponti with it.” He paused. “I love my ring on you.”
“You shouldn’t have spent so much of your back pay on it,” Jen said with a warm smile. She’d protested when he’d bought it for her. But once she’d seen how important it was to him that she wear it, she hadn’t protested again. “What’s Carponti doing now?”
“He’s being a pain in the ass with his prosthetic arm. Do you know what he did in the latrine the other day with that thing?”
Jen closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of his arms around her. But she knew her next words would destroy the peace and quiet enveloping them. “I’m thinking about having reconstructive surgery,” she said in a small voice.
His arms tightened around her before he turned her to face him. He tugged her to him and walked backward toward the bed—the bed in their room, upstairs. He sat and pulled her between his legs. He rested his hands against her lower back and placed his cheek against her chest where her breast had once been.
“I don’t like the idea of you having any surgeries,” he whispered. His grey eyes glittered darkly. His words and actions surprised her. He cupped her cheeks and pulled her lips down to his. “And the scar doesn’t bother me. It’s a reminder of something that made you stronger. Because of you, I’m stronger.”
His words wrapped around her and held her close. She closed her eyes and lost herself in their kiss, still stunned that she’d found someone who had drowned out the little voice in her head. Someone who loved her. Just her.
Scars and all.
Dedication
To my husband, who smiled the first time he saw my name in print
To my mom, who instilled in me a love of books from as far back as I can remember
Acknowledgments
The sheer length of time it took from the first words of this book to now makes it nearly impossible to thank everyone who had a part. Please forgive me if you’re not listed here. But in no particular order here goes:
I have to thank Chris Keach for reading the first draft and making me write in complete sentences. Julie Kenner, for talking me down off the ledge more times than I can count and for being there for me during OIF 09-11. The server room gang in OIF 09-11: Rasa, Mayo, Davis, and Vargas: thanks for the laughs. Doc Hepler, thanks for not turning me in to the psych ward when I asked the best way to commit suicide. I told you I was writing a book Jane Perrine, thank you for writing to me almost every week while I was deployed.
To everyone who wrote, emailed, shipped books or school supplies to me while I was deployed, thank you. Books made the year bearable and in some cases worth it.
Candace Irvin, mentor and most important friend, thank you for seeing something in my writing, waaay back at the beginning and kicking me in the pants when I needed it. I still do. Allison Brennan and Roxanne St. Claire, who both offered amazing publishing advice over the years. Sarah Franz, who edited me on multiple occasions and helped me look like less of a raving lunatic. My mistakes are my own.
Julie Butcher, who helped me get some of the medical stuff right. Elyssa Papa, who told me to
submit this book, just one more time. JoAnn Ross, who made my day when she stopped by my blog and who has encouraged me from a distance for years. Cindy Gerard, who was willing to read one of the first versions of this way back when it was still unformed.
My sisters in the Austin RWA and the ROMVETs. Thank you for suffering through my long absences and silence on the loop. I wouldn’t be here if not for your supporting me through the good times and the not-so-good times and suffering through all the newbie questions over the years.
I’d be remiss if I missed the entire team at Ballantine Bantam Dell. My amazing editor, Sue Grimshaw, thank you for taking a chance on a book pitched to you via Twitter. Gina Wachtel, thank you for seeing something in the first draft you read. Angela Polidoro, thank you for bleeding red all over this manuscript and helping make it better. My agent, Richard Curtis, thank you for believing in me, even when I couldn’t sell the book you’d signed me for.
My girls, Tory and Mia, thank you for letting me write and loving me anyway. And mostly, thank you for letting me sleep in on the weekends. Yes, I will get up and make you French toast.
And last but definitely not least, the hero in my life, my husband, who has supported me through four combat deployments. Thank you for loving me, even when I spent more time on the computer than with you some weekends. Yes, you can buy a new bass boat.
Author’s Note
There are many old and rickety buildings on Fort Hood, including the setting for my fictitious Warrior Transition Unit barracks. Those buildings exist but haven’t had soldiers living in them in decades. There are no barracks near enough to the hospital to house wounded Warriors, so I hope you’ll forgive a little creative license in putting an old building just across the parking lot.
The people in this book are all works of fiction.
The cadre of doctors and nurses and NCOs and officers who care for our wounded Warriors bear a burden greater than any other, and I am in awe of their sacrifice every single day.
Because of You: A Loveswept Contemporary Military Romance Page 24